I’m
a member of a community-supported agriculture program, which means that,
once a week, I get a refrigerator full of veggies from Victory Farms in
Phoenix.

It’s
a great way to get fresh, seasonal produce, and a few weeks ago, I was
delighted to find shelling peas added to my weekly share.

You
don’t see shelling peas too often--in their shells, I mean. Unlike sugar
snap peas, the pods of these are inedible (or at least not too tasty).

Consequently,
most shelling peas end up, well, shelled: in cans or in the freezer.

Shelling
peas get tougher the longer they sit around, so I immediately converted my
own bounty into risotto. And risotto is what I really want to write about,
because my risotto with peas reminded me of how good the stuff can be.

Risotto
is an Italian dish. Like a lot of Italian specialties, it’s soul food with
sophistication--stick-to-the-ribs satisfying, yet somehow also a delicacy.

In
essence, it’s rice. But not just any rice. Risotto is made with particular
varieties of starchy, short-grained rice, which create their own creamy
sauce when cooked a particular way.

Here
in the States, Arborio is the most common risotto rice. I buy it in bulk,
but you can also find it bagged at the grocery store.

Should
you wander into a specialty foods shop, know that Carnaroli and Vialone Nano
will also do the trick--and according to the Italian cookbook author
Marcella Hazan, Carnaroli is “unquestionably” the best.

Into
this succulent, starchy base can go all kinds of goodies: peas and feta
cheese; mushrooms; mussels; even diced or pureed butternut squash.

I’ve
had an ethereal abalone risotto and a homey version with smoked chicken.
Risotto can be hearty enough for a main course or light enough to work as a
starter--and every variation builds on the same basic formula.

Although
risotto isn’t difficult to make, it does demand attention. Be prepared to
give it a good half-hour of stove time, on top of the time you devote to
prep work.

For
six servings, start by sautéing, over medium heat, half of a small onion in
two tablespoons of butter. Use a heavy 3- or 4-quart pot.

When
I made my risotto with peas, I replaced the onion with a few thinly sliced
leeks. Risottos invite improvisation (but I do suggest going easy on the
garlic).

When
the onion is soft, stir in 2 cups of dry risotto rice. Stir with a wooden
spoon until the grains are coated with butter.

Now
add 1/2 cup of dry white wine. The wine will sputter and evaporate almost
immediately; stir constantly so that the rice won’t burn.

You
don’t have to use wine here--you can opt instead for more of the water or
broth that you’ll use to finish the cooking.

“Marcella”
(as she’s known to her fans) is very specific about the kind of fine
homemade meat broth she likes in risotto, but I’ve never followed her
directions to the letter.

The
key thing is to consider what kind of risotto you’re making, and what kind
of liquid will complement it. Take my pea risotto. I made a weak broth by
briefly simmering the leftover pods in water, and skipped the wine
altogether.

If
you’re making a seafood risotto, use water, plus the juices from cooked
clams or mussels (you’ll stir in the meat itself at the end).

I’ve
also made risottos using generous amounts of red wine — the result is a
lovely purple.

Well,
whatever liquid you’re using, add another 1/2 cup of it now! Keep
stirring, and when that liquid is nearly gone, add another 1/2 cup.

Continue
the process until the rice becomes noticeably tender. Then add liquid 1/4
cup at a time, so that when the risotto is done — firm to the bite, but no
longer chalky — it won’t be excessively soupy.

Stir
in salt to taste, two or three tablespoons of butter, and anything else that
strikes your fancy. Freshly grated Parmesan cheese should be the first
addition you consider: indeed, a basic risotto with Parmesan cheese may be
as good as it gets.

Now
pour yourself a glass of wine and raise a toast to spring. Happy eating!